


I Should've Worshipped You Sooner

by Gretchen_Zeller_Barnes



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forgiveness, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:47:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23142685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gretchen_Zeller_Barnes/pseuds/Gretchen_Zeller_Barnes
Summary: Aziraphale needed to ask for forgiveness. He needed to apologize. Not because Crowley needed to hear it, selfish little angel that he was, but because Aziraphale needed to say it.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 93





	I Should've Worshipped You Sooner

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this beautiful fanart by anyanp and this.
> 
> Title from 'Take Me To Church' by Hozier.

“Forgive me.”

Aziraphale had slid to his knees in front of Crowley, clutching at Crowley’s hand as though he was the only thing tethering him to the world.

“Aziraphale, there’s nothing to forgive.”

“Yes, there is. I didn’t choose you sooner. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I chose Heaven. I _kept_ choosing Heaven, over and over. I believed that they’d stop all this apocalypse nonsense, even after you tried to tell me they had no intention of stopping.”

Angels can sense love. But they can also sense pain, physical and emotional. He could _feel_ the overwhelming hurt rolling off Crowley, like crashing waves, brutally eroding the cliffs beneath an ancient lighthouse, could _feel_ Crowley desperately trying to shove the pain down for Aziraphale’s sake.

“I betrayed you. I _lied_ to you about knowing the antichrist’s location. I reacted poorly when you asked me to run off with you,” he continued, hands trembling around Crowley’s fingers. He couldn’t meet the demon’s eyes. “I _hurt_ you.”

Crowley would deny it, brush it off nonchalantly like he always did, but Aziraphale _knew_ it still hurt him after all these millennia, knowing that each time he’d offered a lifeline, each time he’d offered Aziraphale his love, the angel had gone scurrying back to Heaven.

_Oh, he’s not my friend. We’ve never met before. We don’t know each other._

Back to a hierarchy of angels who cared more about settling scores than they did about protecting their own.

_Friends? We’re not friends._

Back to a God who cared more about Her Ineffable Plan than She did about the universe She’d created.

_It’s over._

A God who’d promised love and understanding to all yet had cast Crowley out simply for asking questions.

“It’s not my place to forgive you,” Crowley whispered brokenly.

_Unforgivable. That’s what I am._

Crowley, who was not ‘good’ enough for Heaven, yet not bad enough for Hell. Sweet, kind, acerbic Crowley, who was worth more than the whole blessed and damned lot of them put together.

_Would I lie to you?_

For anyone observing them from the outside, the sight of a Principality on their knees, begging for forgiveness from one of the fallen must have seemed laughable.

_Well, obviously. You’re a demon. That’s what you do._

Aziraphale wasn’t laughing. Angels lied too.

“It is. I didn’t choose you out of bloody cowardice. All the time we missed because I couldn’t – because I wasn’t brave enough –,” Aziraphale broke off, tears threatening to spill if he wasn’t careful, his throat burning with shame.

He needed to make Crowley understand. He deserved better than the sparse scraps of affection Aziraphale had given him in the past. He deserved Aziraphale’s _all_.

Aziraphale _needed_ to ask for forgiveness. He needed to apologize. Not because Crowley needed to hear it, selfish little angel that he was, but because Aziraphale needed to _say it_.

“I’m so sorry, my dearest… I’m sorry…”

Crowley scooted forward, pulling Aziraphale’s hands into his lap. “Angel, you’re the bravest person I know. It’s not my place to forgive you, because there’s _nothing to forgive_.”

“There _is_ ,” he begs, _pleads_ , hot thick tears spilling down his cheeks. He wasn’t brave. He was afraid and a hypocrite. Crowley had always been the bravest of them both.

“Look, what’s done is done. I didn’t expect you to choose me back then,” Crowley admitted, slowly kissing the tears from Aziraphale’s face, his mouth a silent benediction against Aziraphale’s skin. “And not now, if I’m being honest.”

“Of course, I choose you,” hitching breaths threatening to overtake him. “I love you, _you idiot_.”

“And I love you, angel. That’s all that matters.” Crowley promised, still holding Aziraphale’s fidgeting hands. With his free hand, he tipped Aziraphale’s chin up, head ducking to meet his eyes, a watery, tremulous smile upon his face, serpentine eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

“We’ve got all the time in the world to make up for. But if you still need me to forgive you, Aziraphale? Then you are forgiven. Always and completely forgiven.”


End file.
